


picture perfect

by ailurea



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Childhood Friends, Florist Shiro (Voltron), Humor, M/M, Model AU, Model Keith (Voltron), idiots to lovers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-16
Updated: 2019-12-16
Packaged: 2021-02-26 00:55:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,395
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21814777
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ailurea/pseuds/ailurea
Summary: After years of modeling for ad campaigns, Keith considers himself fairly experienced. Intimate poses and risqué shoots don't even make him bat an eye.But intimate poses and risqué shoots with Shiro, who wasn't even a model until Allura decided to rope him in as Keith's new fake husband?No amount of experience in the world could have prepared Keith for this.
Relationships: Keith/Shiro (Voltron)
Comments: 77
Kudos: 424
Collections: Sheith Reverse Big Bang 2019





	picture perfect

**Author's Note:**

> written for wofuru's amazing artwork from the 2019 sheith reverse big bang ♥  
> (art embedded in the fic + art post linked in the end notes to prevent spoilers!)
> 
> all my thanks to wofuru for being an amazingly supportive partner, to allie/artenon for the speed beta, and to sharki for holding my hand as i cried my way through!
> 
> \----
> 
> **disclaimer:** i know nothing about modeling or photography or their respective industries and i apologize for any inaccuracies!

There’s something that everyone who’s worked long enough in the business knows:

If Lotor’s directly involved in a shoot, there’s a 99% chance that something goes horribly wrong and a 1% chance that it’s an absolute masterpiece.

Keith made his big break through one of those 1% masterpieces, so he never thinks twice when a job from Sincline comes his way, even if he can feel Pidge’s judgment through the phone screen every time he tells her to accept them.

It's not like things have gone really terribly in any of them. Getting his hair singed was easily fixed by a haircut. The freak flash storm that drenched him and Ryan and ruined thousands of dollars of equipment and setup was expensive, but not world-ending. The live lions getting loose—

Okay, Keith has to admit that one was pretty bad.

He should really have expected something to go wrong with this shoot. It seems like the more creative control Lotor exerts over a campaign, the worse it goes, and Lotor was all over this one, choosing the theme (wedding, because his new cologne was called _Pure Love_ ) and the location (some fancy villa in the hills) and the accents (flowers—lots of flowers).

Keith spends most of the morning in wardrobe and then in hair and makeup, sitting patiently as they remove all the color from his face and then carefully apply it back to give him the perfect dewy-eyed, blushing groom look. 

At some point, the first omen befalls them, and Allura bursts in, hair falling loose from her bun as she says, “Your florist friend, with the Instagram? What was his name? Blue Lion?”

“Black Lion,” Keith autocorrects, and by the time his brain processes that he should tell her that's not actually Shiro’s name, Allura’s already moved on.

“Yes, him,” she says. “He seems to do good work. How long would it take him to create the arrangement we’re using in the shoot?”

Despite occasionally helping Shiro in the shop, Keith knows very little about flowers and even less about arranging them, so he says, “Send me a picture and I can ask? What happened with EZ?”

Allura’s lip twists as she pulls out her phone. “Car accident during delivery, I’m afraid. Everyone's all right, but the arrangements were all ruined, spilled out onto the highway. They’re unable to fill another order on such short notice, but if your friend has what we’re looking for or a close enough substitute—of course, we’ll arrange for him to be paid the fee we were going to give the original florist.”

Keith’s phone explodes in his pocket as she speaks, pictures and thematic descriptions arriving in his messages one by one. He forwards along all the information to Shiro (except for the payment details, which he’s sure would give Shiro a heart attack on the spot) and five minutes later he gets a reply.

Allura’s already run off again, so he calls her on speakerphone so the team can keep messing with his hair. 

“He can be here in two hours,” he says once Allura picks up.

“Thank goodness,” Allura says, her voice a rush of air. “He has my eternal gratitude.”

“I am telling you,” Lance says in the background, “Lotor’s shoots are always cursed. Always!”

“Oh, hush with that,” Allura says. “It’s just a coincidence. Keith’s friend will be here soon and everything will continue to go to plan.”

Lance grumbles in disagreement, but his exact words are drowned out by Allura saying, “Thank you so much for your help, Keith! Now where on Earth is—“

She hangs up before she finishes her sentence, but Keith has some idea of what it is—after all, his partner for the shoot’s already two hours late.

Forty-five minutes later, there’s a horrific crash from outside, followed by a terrified screech that could only have come from Lance. A guard rushes in to assure Keith that everything’s fine, one of Allura's interns just destroyed a flood light, that's all. The guard slams the door on his way out and the wall mirror flops to the ground and shatters, covering the dressing room floor in broken glass.

Keith’s trapped in the room because they don’t want him tracking broken glass everywhere, and it’s another half hour or so before someone comes by to sweep up the mess. Keith steps outside just in time to catch Allura saying, “Yes, of course, I understand completely,” in a tone of voice that says she understands but she doesn’t want to acknowledge.

She sighs when she sees Keith. “Well, you can guess who isn’t going to be making it to the shoot.”

“What happened?”

“Food poisoning,” Allura says, running a hand through her bangs and pulling more hair out of her bun. “He thought it would be fine, but then they had to pull over on the highway because he was getting so motion sick he wouldn’t stop—well.” Her arm flops to her side. “I’m so sorry about this, Keith. I don’t understand how everything went so wrong so quickly.”

Lance leans close to her and whispers, “The cuuuuuuuurse.”

Allura glares at him.

“It’s fine.” Keith checks his phone. It’s late enough that Shiro’s probably already on the way. “I just feel bad for making Shiro come out here for nothing.”

“We’ll make sure he’s still appropriately compensated for his time,” Allura says. “I appreciate that he was willing to make things happen so quickly, and it isn’t his fault that the situation turned out this way in the end. I’ll be sure to keep him in mind the next time we do something local.”

“I’m sure he’ll appreciate that,” Keith says. Business at Black Lion Florals hasn’t been bad, but it hasn’t been booming, either. Any exposure is good. 

Keith’s phone buzzes in his hand, and he glances down at it. Shiro’s name is on the screen, alongside a selfie of the both of them from their trip to Japan a few months back.

Keith picks it up as he walks a few paces away from the group. “Hey.”

“Hey,” Shiro says, a bit breathlessly. “I just parked outside. Possibly illegally. The signs were confusing. Anyway, should I just come in through the front? Do I have to tell them anything?”

“No, it’s—actually, hold on a sec.” Keith turns back to Allura and raises his voice. “Do you still want the flowers?”

Allura looks at Lance, who shrugs. After a moment, she turns back. “We promised the crew we’d let them take some back. And we’re already paying for them. May as well have something good come out of this.”

Keith puts his phone back to his ear. “Yeah, hold on, let me come help you bring them in. Do we need more hands?”

“It’s just two crates, we should be fine,” Shiro says. “Should I re-park?”

“Let me come see,” Keith says. “I’ll be there in a sec.”

Shiro’s van is easy to recognize, parked next to the building’s entrance under four inscrutable street signs. It’s all white, with a black cat curled in a nest of blossoming flowers on either side and the name _Black Lion Florals_ emblazoned in large script letters. The back is open, and Shiro’s pulling a crate of flower arrangements from it. Keith jogs over to help him.

Shiro looks over at his footsteps, then grins, looking at him up and down in a way Keith refuses to flush at.

Keith knows it’s just because he never wears suits, usually. It must look strange. He picks self-consciously at the collar.

“Hey,” Shiro says. “You look good.”

“They messed with me for hours,” Keith says, reaching out to take the box from Shiro. “I better look better than _good_.”

“You look very beautiful,” Shiro amends. “I like the ponytail. That’s new.” He looks like he wants to touch it. Keith would let him.

“It makes me look more innocent and virginal or something,” Keith says, hefting the box up in his arms.

Shiro sputters. “More—Wait, should you be getting dirt all over your suit?” He reaches out to take the crate back, but Keith sidesteps him.

“Nah, it doesn’t matter anyways,” Keith says. “James got food poisoning and Allura’s pretty picky about who she works with, so it’s impossible to call someone else in so last minute. The whole thing’s canceled now. Figured we’d let some people enjoy the flowers though.”

“Oh, that’s nice of you.” Shiro had given up on taking the crate from Keith and and grabbed the other crate from the back of his van while Keith was talking.

Keith leads him into the building. “Sorry I made you bring these over for nothing.”

“It was a slow day anyways,” Shiro says. “I’m glad I could help you out.”

“Well, at least you’ll be able to afford a lot more slow days after this.”

Shiro laughs. “What, with these little arrangements? Yeah, maybe I’ll go out for lunch a few times.”

“Allura said she’s gonna pay you the fee for the original florist,” Keith says. “You know who the original florist was?”

“Who?”

“EZ Studios.”

“EZ—“ Shiro stops walking and gapes. “Didn’t they do the royal wedding?”

“Yep.”

“Keith,” Shiro whispers. “These arrangements are like twenty dollars each. The bouquet’s maybe fifty?”

“Get ready to tack another zero onto that,” Keith says. “Plus the rush fee. You wanna guess what EZ Studios’ rush fee is?”

Shiro looks like he might faint, and Keith laughs.

“Keith!” Allura bustles up to them. “Is this your friend?”

“Oh, hi, I—“ Shiro pauses to shift the crate of flowers so that he’s cradling it with his metal arm against his hip. His biceps bulge deliciously under his pale blue button-down. “Takashi Shirogane, I run Black Lion Florals.”

“Thank you so much for all your help,” Allura says, clasping his hand with both of hers.

“Sorry it turned out like this,” Shiro says. “Keith was telling me that you’re going to have to cancel the whole shoot after all.”

“Well,” Allura says. “Maybe not.”

Keith looks around, but he doesn’t see James anywhere.

Then Allura says, “Have you ever considered modeling, Shiro?”

“What,” Keith says.

Shiro looks between them, flustered, and he scratches at the edge of the scar running across the bridge of his nose. “Oh, um. I don’t really have the looks for that. I leave that kind of thing to Keith.”

“Nonsense!” Allura says, which Keith has to agree with. “You have just the look we’re going for, and you and Keith make quite the pair! There's no time to properly fit a suit, but we’ll be able to make do, I think. What do you say? You’d be doing us a tremendous favor, not that you haven’t done so already.”

“I—I don’t know,” Shiro says, looking at Keith, but Keith’s brain is still stuck on _you and Keith make quite the pair_. Shiro, probably realizing Keith is useless, turns back to Allura. “What would I have to do, exactly?”

“You’d just have to stand there with Keith,” Allura says. “The two of you are close, yes? I assume you’re comfortable embracing, and all of that?”

“Oh, um,” Shiro glances at Keith again. “Yes?”

Keith snaps back to attention at that. “Don’t make him do anything he doesn’t want to.”

Allura sighs. “Of course, you’re right. I’m sorry, Shiro, I was just hopeful we’d be able to save today after all. But we can always find Keith a new fake husband another time.”

“I wouldn’t mind trying it,” Shiro says. “I mean, I’ve always kind of wondered what the day-to-day of Keith’s job is like.”

Keith stares at him, because since when? Every time he talks about his day, Shiro’s all laughter and _wow, I could never do that_. But now Shiro just gives him a sheepish smile, and Keith has no idea what is running through that man’s mind.

And he’s not getting out of this, now that he’s agreed. Allura’s already waving an assistant over. “Oh, you are going to be absolutely perfect for this, Shiro, I can tell. Get him fitted, quickly. Err on the side of too tight if you have to. And try the veil on him, I know we had it on Keith, but with his height I think it may work better. For the overall, think power and maturity for him.”

Shiro’s eyes are wide when he turns to Keith. _Power?_ he mouths.

Keith just shakes his head. Shiro has no idea what he’s gotten himself into.

* * *

“M’tired,” Shiro says, slumping against Keith when he emerges from the dressing room.

Keith grabs him before he can smear makeup all over Keith’s suit, and tries to hide the way his heart is pounding at the fact that they’re wearing matching rings with forced casualness. “You big baby. You just sat in a chair for an hour, what’s there to be tired about?”

“They had to do my eye makeup so many times because I kept blinking.” Shiro pokes at the bottom of his eyeball. “How is it possible to not blink?”

Keith shrugs. “You get used to it.”

“Impossible.”

Keith just laughs and leads Shiro out into the gardens where Allura’s set up the shoot. Allura is setting her secondary lights up around the villa, and she beams over at them as they approach. “Oh, this is wonderful! Lance, come look. Aren’t they perfect?”

Lance turns from where he’s adjusting the umbrella and blinks at them. “Whoa, who’s the new guy? Looking good, Beefcake!”

“Don’t be crass,” Allura says. “That’s Keith’s friend, Shiro. The florist.”

“No way are you a florist,” Lance says. “Unless—is florist a secret cover? I’ve seen _Kingsman_. Camellias, not carnations?”

“One hundred percent florist,” Shiro says. “I spend a lot of time in the garden, though. I grow a lot of the local flowers myself.”

Lance whistles. “Well, Mr. Florist, looking forward to seeing your stuff.”

“Why don’t we start out over here, under the vines?” Allura says. “I want to take advantage of the light while we still have it. We’ll have to be quick about it, though. Lance, could you—“

“Already on it,” Lance says, digging through their gear.

“Get ready to be bored for a few hours,” Keith says as they trudge over the lawn. “This is a lot less interesting than working on flower arrangements.”

“Well, at least I get to be with you,” Shiro says with a grin.

“There’s that,” Keith says, smiling back a little. It’d be a lot better, he thinks, if they weren’t pretending to be newlyweds. “It’s always less awkward when you’re friends.”

“Are you friends with your coworkers?”

“Some of them.” Keith shrugs and looks down at his feet. He never was great at being open and social and all the other things required to make friends. He’s sure that if he and Shiro hadn’t met when they were younger, they wouldn’t be friends now. He’s surprised Shiro never grew out of him.

Or maybe he did, but Keith clung on too stubbornly to fall off.

That’s the thing with Shiro. He’s always so nice that it’s hard to tell how he feels. Yeah, he always smiles at Keith, and hugs him, and asks him about his day, but he’ll do that with literally anyone. That’s probably just how he thinks people interact in the world. Which is probably why he’ll never realize that the fact Keith does the same with him means a whole lot fucking more.

There’s only one person outside of his immediate family that Keith asks about their day, and that’s Shiro.

Keith knows Shiro doesn’t feel the same way about him. He knows. He’ll get over it, probably, someday. But sometimes it’s nice to pretend.

Like right now.

He watches Shiro as Shiro watches Allura and her crew finish their setup. Shiro looks amazing in his tuxedo, midnight black and carefully fitted. The sleeves are definitely too tight, not that Keith’s complaining. The suit’s pinned in the back to give the illusion of being tailored, but that’s something that can be hidden easily with posing and framing and, all else failing, Photoshop. Shiro’s hair, usually soft and fluffy, has been smoothed back into something sleek and, okay, a little sexy. Keith wants to run his fingers through it, mess it up a little.

Like he wants to mess Shiro up a little.

Keith catches himself. He needs to stop this line of thinking. This is a wedding shoot. A virginal wedding shoot. He’s a doe-eyed, blushing groom or whatever the fuck stereotype they’ve put on him this time. He needs to get a fucking grip.

“Okay, let’s go ahead and get started!” Allura calls out. “Keith, stay where you are. Shiro, could you step closer to him, please?”

“Um.” Shiro, who is already standing pretty close, steps the rest of the way towards Keith so that their sides are smashed together. “Like this?”

“Perfect!” Allura says. “Keith, turn into him—a little more—yes, that’s great. Lean on his shoulder? Good. Now look at each other like you’re in love.”

Shiro smiles, but his eyes, which are now locked onto Keith’s, are wide with the same kind of panic he has whenever he’s at the stove and the fire alarm in the kitchen starts wailing at him.

Keith laughs at the absolutely horrible sight he makes. “Shiro, relax. It’s fine. Allura’s directions take some getting used to. _Look softer, Keith._ I can’t, my face is stuck like this.”

That gets Shiro to smile for real, laughter smudging away the alarm. “Do you say that to her face?”

“Nah, I’m pretty sure she’d stab me with her pen. Now stop moving your mouth so much when you talk, or she’ll stab you, too.”

“Rude,” Shiro says, but he keeps his lips pressed together more tightly this time.

“Shiro, go ahead and put your hands on Keith, anywhere that feels natural,” Allura calls out. “Keith, you know what to do.”

Shiro reaches out for him, and his hands hover at various points around Keith’s body, but never make contact.

Keith raises his eyebrows. “You’re acting like you don’t hug me all the time.”

“This is different,” Shiro hisses, but he rests one hand on Keith’s shoulder and winds the other arm behind Keith, letting his hand rest over Keith’s abdomen.

Keith tries very hard not to think about how big Shiro’s hand is as he shifts to make the pose more camera-friendly and wraps his arms around Shiro’s thick one. He’s sweating under his suit. Every touch is fire, and Keith is burning.

Allura thankfully doesn’t keep them there too long. They only do a few variants before she’s calling for an assistant to bring over the bouquet. It looks bigger than Keith thought when they pull it out of the crate. It feels even bigger in Keith’s hands.

“You really went all out,” he murmurs.

“I did the best with what I had.” Shiro says. “It’s not exactly the composition Allura wanted, but—“

“Shut up, Shiro,” Keith says. “It’s really nice.”

“I want the both of you to hold it together,” Allura instructs. “Shiro, could you step a little behind Keith? Put your arm around his shoulders—yes, like that. Now look down at the flowers for me. No, I don’t like this lighting for the florals—hold for a moment please, we’re going to readjust.”

“They’re going to do this a lot,” Keith says. “Especially if they keep moving us around.”

Shiro hums above his head. “Think there’s much of the shoot left?”

“There’s a sequence with a veil she still wants to do, I think,” Keith says. “But that should be all of it. Hopefully we’ll finish soon.”

Then there’s a crash and a shattering of glass and a shriek. Keith whips his head around to see Allura’s backup flood light completely destroyed on the pavement of the footpath.

“This is getting ridiculous now,” Allura says, hand to her forehead as Lance coordinates getting the mess cleaned up. 

“Guessing that’s not normal,” Shiro says.

Keith sighs and lowers the bouquet. “Definitely not. Hope you didn’t have any other plans for tonight. We’re going to be stuck here a while.”

Shiro squeezes his shoulder. “Well, at least we have each other for company.”

That’s true. Shiro’s the best kind of company there is.

* * *

Allura has to give up on her vision for the bouquet shoot. As soon as evening hits, the light fades fast, and night’s shadow casts itself across the villa grounds in no time at all. They move on to taking off their suit jackets and bringing in the veil, which does, in fact, end up draped over Shiro’s head instead of Keith’s.

They take some pretty generic photos—another hug, an over-the-shoulder glance, a simple joined-hands pose. Keith should’ve realized it was all just a warm-up for Allura’s real agenda, which is this:

Keith and Shiro, snuggled together under the semi-transparent fabric of the veil.

“Lean in closer, please, Shiro,” Allura says, and Shiro obediently sways closer, putting his hands on Keith’s hips for balance. “Closer than that. Excellent, now tilt your head down. More. More. Closer, Shiro.”

It’s pretty clear at this point that Allura’s going for that almost-kiss picture, which Shiro seems hesitant to commit to. Keith thought he’d be hesitant himself, but—he’s not. He’s done this enough times to know it’s not real. It makes it easy for him to put a heavy hand on the back of Shiro’s neck, drawing him a few inches closer, until they’re sharing breath.

Shiro reddens.

“Perfect!” Allura says. “Now Keith, blush a little more. Shiro, blush a little less.”

Keith makes himself acknowledge that he’s an incredibly intimate position with Shiro right now, and he lets some of the nervous shyness about it creep into his expression.

“Wow,” Shiro breathes.

Keith’s heart thuds, actually embarrassed. “What?”

“No, nothing,” Shiro says. “You’re just, uh.”

Keith tenses. “You’re freaking me out.”

“No no, it’s nothing bad,” Shiro says quickly. “Just—I just thought that you were really pretty just now. Not that you’re not all the time. I mean, you probably know that since you’re a model and all, but—“

Allura coughs, pointedly. “Good conversation?”

Shiro clamps his mouth shut.

“That’s what I thought,” she says. “Just a few more here. Keith, can you put your hands on his chest and arm instead? We’re going for innocent, here.”

Keith does, and both of Shiro’s hands naturally come to hold him by the waist. Keith’s brain short circuits because objectively he’s known that his waist is small and Shiro’s hands are big, but Shiro’s never really grabbed him with both hands and made him feel the fact that they're easily able to wrap around the whole of his waist.

Shiro is, thankfully, not watching Keith suffer, because he has his head turned and is listening to Allura. Keith has not been listening to Allura, so when Shiro turns back and tilts his head down toward Keith, Keith just follows his lead and tilts his face up.

That seems to be not exactly what Shiro was expecting, because their faces get alarmingly close. Keith swears he feels their lips brush.

“Oh, good call, Keith, I do like this much more!” Allura says. “Hold that, would you?”

Hold that? Hold a kiss, with Shiro?

Keith looks at Shiro with what he hopes is concern and not wild-eyed panic, and Shiro just smiles at him reassuringly and leans a little closer, letting his eyes flutter shut.

Shiro really is so, so kissable. Keith’s noticed from a distance, but this close, close enough that he could actually do it, the temptation is so real—to kiss Shiro’s jaw, his cheeks, his brow, the tip of his nose, the little smile on his lips.

Keith leans in slowly and meets his lips. He keeps it as chaste as he can; keeps himself from pressing closer and keeps his hand flat on Shiro’s chest instead of fisting in the lapels of his suit like he wants to.

Innocent. Virginal. Pure love. That’s the name of the game, here.

And Shiro’s lips, warm and soft and yielding, are just part of that game. It’s not real. It’s not something that’s going to last, not something Keith will ever feel again, not something that he should allow himself to savor and drown in, heartbeat by damning heartbeat.

But it’s Shiro, and Keith’s weak.

He drowns willingly.

* * *

Keith’s learned how to wind down from a shoot and leave with efficiency, but Shiro’s still taking his sweet time, so he lounges around the entrance on his phone while he waits. Everything that's just happened is fresh in his mind, but away from the set, it's easier to remember that it was all just for show.

Lance spots him as he’s taking equipment out to the car. “Oh, hey, Keith! I got some pretty sweet behind-the-scenes today, you want them?”

Lance is always bouncing around taking random photos throughout any shoot that he works on. They usually end up as sneak peeks on Altea Studios’ Instagram accounts until the final product’s revealed. Keith has never had interest in any of them. “I’m good.”

“No, wait, look, they’re really cute,” Lance says, abandoning the equipment against the wall so that he can shove his phone into Keith’s face. 

It’s a picture of them from when they were getting ready for the bouquet shoot. Keith’s looking down at the bouquet. Shiro is looking at Keith.

“You could’ve told us you had a boyfriend,” Lance says, swiping to another photo of them smiling at each other, Keith still clutching the bouquet. “You guys look really good together.”

“What?” Keith says.

“What?” Lance parrots.

Keith frowns. “Shiro’s not my boyfriend.”

Lance looks at him, then at Shiro, then at the phone, then pointedly back at him, waving the phone in his face again. “Um?”

“I’m serious,” Keith says. “He thinks of me like his brother,” he admits, though it hurts to do it.

“Bro,” Lance says, waggling the phone so quickly that Keith can’t even see the screen anymore. “ _Bro_.”

“Yes, like a bro.” Keith’s not sure why Lance has temporarily lost control of the English language. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine, but are you?” Lance says. “Because I have two brothers, and let me tell you, if any one of them looked at me like this, there would be _major issues_.”

Keith waves it off. “It’s just because we were playing romantic for the shoot. He’s not really used to acting or anything so it makes sense he’s confused. You’ve seen it before.”

“Dude,” Lance says. “Tell me you’re messing with me.”

“Why would I be messing with you?”

Lance throws his hands up. “I can't handle this.” He marches back off in the direction of his abandoned equipment.

“What can't he handle?” Shiro says, right before he leans with a forearm on Keith's shoulder.

“Just Lance being Lance,” Keith says. “Be glad you don't have to work with him regularly.” Shiro’s back in his regular clothes now, and he’s washed the makeup off. “You okay?”

“Tired, but I’ll survive,” Shiro says. “I have to hand it to you. Standing around and looking pretty is a lot harder than you make it seem.”

Keith snorts. “As long as you understand the hard work I'm putting into bringing home the bread.”

“I never doubted,” Shiro says sincerely. “Speaking of bread, though—you hungry? I finished our leftovers, but we could swing by Sal’s on the way home.”

“Sounds good.” Keith smiles. “My treat, for dragging you into this.”

“No, it was fun!” Shiro says, and it looks and feels like he's about to say something else, but then he doesn't. 

Keith can only handle a few seconds of the weird silence before he says, “Well, come on then, I'm starving,” and leads the way out of the building.

He hates the weirdness. It's why he's never brought his feelings up before, and never will. Shiro’s not too nice to reject him, but he is too nice for everything to be the same after.

Keith knows what would happen—there’d be a gentle but firm talk, and they’d try to settle back into their friendship, but the knowledge of it would hang over Shiro’s head. He'd always be careful, always watch his steps so as not to hurt Keith further, even though Keith is just fine accepting Shiro’s feelings, repressing his own, and moving on.

His current approach is to just skip all of that mess and go straight to the repressing and moving on. This shoot was a step back, and Shiro’s awkward uncertainty a grim reminder of what'll happen if he slips up again.

But it's fine. This will be just another forgettable cologne ad in the back of some magazine, and in a few weeks their own memories of what happened on set will fade.

It's for the best.

* * *

The photo ends up everywhere.

Keith’s eye starts twitching on the train when he notices the ad plastered above the seats across from him, and he pulls his hood lower on his head. It’s partly to hide his face, but mainly it’s to hide the ad from his line of sight because his lips tingle whenever he sees the reminder that they'd once been touching Shiro's and he can't handle it, can't handle seeing what it would look like for them to be together when that's not something he's going to get to experience in reality.

Keith sits on the other side of the train after that, but that doesn't save him from seeing the ad staring back at him from the back cover of a magazine in the grocery store, or printed on the side of a fucking bus. 

He hates it all, but it's nothing compared to a week later, when Keith steps off the train and nearly spits his smoothie everywhere when he sees him and Shiro lip-locked on the side of Sincline Tower, their heads blown up to twenty feet tall. 

His agent picks up after the first ring, and he barely lets her get a greeting out before he says, “Sincline!”

“I told you they really liked how the shoot turned out, didn't I?” Pidge says. “Remember we were renegotiating for the exposure clause?”

“We were?” Keith says. His main takeaway from those conversations was that the contracts were being renegotiated because of Shiro. 

“You're getting paid very nicely to have your wedding photos plastered all over the city,” Pidge says. “You can thank me now.”

“Ugh.”

Keith wishes they were his actual wedding photos. Then they'd be Keith-and-Shiro instead of Keith and Shiro. Then he could say _yeah, that's my husband_ instead of _no, that's just my best friend and roommate, I've been in love with him since I was five and I kicked his ass at DDR and instead of getting mad he asked me for tips and no he's never going to like me back and I've made peace with it so can we stop talking about it now_.

Instead he has to see the fantasy he's had since the beginning of time laid out for very public consumption and internally cry at the fact that this is as real as it's ever going to get.

“Hellooooo,” Pidge says over the line. “You still there or what?”

“What,” Keith says. 

“You know if your buddy’s interested in more gigs?” Pidge says. “Because I've got a ton of people interested in him.”

Keith’s instinctive reaction is to say _no, fuck off_ , but he tamps it down because it's not fair to Shiro. Shiro’s hot; of course everyone wants a piece of him now that they've seen him. Keith can't hide him away just because he doesn't want the rest of the world to realize what a catch Shiro is, just because he’s scared that once Shiro really starts putting himself out there for the whole world to see, he’ll realize just how much the world has to offer him, and Keith will be nothing more than a memory.

That's a shitty reason to not even bring this up. There's a lot of good money in the business, if Shiro wants to try it. Keith can't keep the opportunity from him. 

“Send me the details,” Keith says. “I'll see what he thinks.”

“You got it,” Pidge says. “But, by the way, if this is gonna be a thing, I might have to pawn him off to Matt. The number of bros trying to talk to me about him is gross. This is why I'm glad you don't have muscles.”

“I don't what?” Keith says. 

“Anyway, emailing you now, let me know what he thinks, bye!” Pidge says before she hangs up.

Keith furrows his brows at his phone. He has muscles. He goes to the gym exactly as much as Shiro, because neither of them like going alone. It's not his fault he got his mom’s genes. On a good day, he can bench more than Shiro, but he's never going to look like he can.

Keith stays vaguely salty about it for the rest of the day, which means that when he swings by Shiro’s shop in the evening to pick him up on the way home, he ends up scrutinizing Shiro’s biceps as he’s closing up shop. 

Shiro notices the direction of his gaze and looks down at his own arm. He gapes. “Oh no, Keith, why didn’t you tell me earlier?”

“Tell you what?” Keith says warily.

“My arm!” Shiro says. “It’s metal!”

Keith stares at him, unimpressed. 

Shiro just grins and closes his binder. “It's kind of funny.”

“It's really not.”

“Well, it's why everyone else stares.” Shiro tucks the binder away behind the counter. “So if not that, then what?”

“That's not the reason,” Keith says. “They're staring at your muscles.”

Shiro raises his eyebrows as he tugs off his apron. “Well, okay. Were you staring at my muscles, then?”

It's a trap. Keith has trapped himself. He tries to claw his way out. “That's not the point. The point is that other people want to stare at your muscles.”

“So you were—“

“You've got offers,” Keith says. “For modeling gigs. The ad campaign’s doing really well and Allura’s been saying nice stuff about you. Word gets around.”

“Oh!” Shiro blinks like he doesn't know how to react. “Oh, that's, uh. That's really nice of them. Are you—is it more stuff with you?”

“Uh, maybe?” Keith had only briefly flipped through the document that Pidge sent him earlier. It looked like a lot of solo stuff, but given the reason why Shiro's blowing up, he'd be surprised if there weren't more pairs shoots. And Shiro is exactly the kind of guy directors love pairing people like Keith up with—aesthetically, at least.

“I don't think I could do what you do full-time,” Shiro says. “And definitely not on my own. But if it's some projects with you, I think that could be fun. I could ask Romelle to pick up more shifts.”

“Oh, um.” Keith is honestly not sure if he can handle more shoots with Shiro. Most of the paired ones are romantic. Some of them are on the more risqué side. If this keeps happening, he's definitely going to end up popping a boner in some compromising position and never be able to look Shiro in the eye again.

“If you don't want to, that's fine,” Shiro says. His keys jangle as he turns from locking up the drawers. He’s smiling, and it's somehow sincere but also not. “It's probably hard to work with an amateur.”

“No, it was a lot of fun!” Keith says, which is true. “I was just trying to figure out logistics.” Lie, but he does need to figure that out. “If you only want to do things with me, maybe Pidge can handle both of us, then. She already sent a bunch of invitations for you to look through if you want.”

“Whatever you pick sounds good,” Shiro says. 

Well, Keith usually leaves the initial screenings up to Pidge, which means it'll be whatever Pidge picks to submit their profiles to. Speaking of which.

“We'll have to get a portfolio together for you.”

Shiro raises his eyebrows. “I don't have any other work, though?”

“The thing with modeling is that you can make it up,” Keith says. “I'm sure Allura would help out. She really liked you.”

“So I just... have to take more pictures?”

“Specifically, pictures designed to show off your assets.”

Shiro’s eyeing him warily now. “And what does that mean, exactly?”

Keith smiles wryly. “Hope you like body oil.”

* * *

It only takes a week for Shiro to get a modeling portfolio thrown together from an extended photo shoot with Allura and Lance, who were more than happy to lend a hand.

“He is a wet dream,” Lance declared after Shiro went to wash off the oil and glitter.

“He will also be getting many, many offers completely unsuited to his personality,” Allura said.

Like this one, a soda ad featuring a punk biker and a boy-next-door type sweet on him. It's such a standard trope that Keith had given the okay for it without blinking, and he can only assume that Shiro didn't quite get to the part where they actually talked about the role he was up for before also agreeing, because now Shiro’s here, looking disgruntled in a maroon V-neck and a leather jacket while Keith’s comfy in his cream turtleneck. 

“This is all wrong,” Shiro says as he does half-squats to loosen the pleather around his thighs. It's mouthwatering. Keith tries very hard not to stare and fails.

“You're too tall and buff to be a boy-next-door,” Keith says. “It's just not happening.”

“Isn't being subversive good PR?” Shiro says weakly.

Keith shrugs. “Marketing is a mystery.”

Except for when it comes to Shiro’s thighs. Those could sell boxed mashed potatoes.

“We're ready to get started,” Veronica says as she steps past them.

They're outdoors again, but in front of a house in a quiet neighborhood. It's a more casual shoot than the first one they did together, with a lighter crew and a lot less setup.

Veronica directs Keith up on the steps of the porch, leaning with his side up against the post and holding a glass bottle of Balmera Bubbles. Then she gets Shiro to slide up behind him, draping an arm over the shoulder closest to the post and leaning over to smirk at Keith from the other side. 

Or, he's supposed to be smirking. Keith thinks that Shiro has never looked more awkward in his life. 

Keith snorts before he can help it.

Veronica’s wincing from the side. “Try to relax, Shiro.”

“Put your weight on him,” Acxa says from above her folded arms. “He won't fall.”

Shiro does, slowly slumping his weight across Keith’s side, and Keith shifts to balance it.

“Okay?” Shiro says. His face is very close. 

“Uh-huh,” Keith says. 

“Now look at his ear, Shiro,” Acxa says. “Pretend you want to bite it.”

Shiro’s eyes flare like they did when Allura gave her own vague instructions, a brief _what the fuck_. Unlike Allura, Acxa’s directions are exact. But that doesn't mean they make any more sense. 

Shiro makes an earnest attempt at looking like he might possibly be interested in nipping at Keith’s ear, and Keith, again, plays the shy, innocent virgin with a soda bottle.

They do a few more in that vein before they're moved to a different pose, with Keith leaning with his back against the post, and Shiro propping himself over Keith with an arm above his head.

This one actually does manage to make Keith a bit flustered, because never in his life can he remember Shiro ever looming over him, breath hot on his face and overheating everything inside him. Shiro’s looking down at him with vague wonder, and Keith hopes that whatever Shiro’s staring at on his face can be played off as acting.

They have to hold variants of this for way too long, until Veronica and Acxa finally take mercy and let them both sit on the steps instead.

This is easier, because it’s familiar in a way that doesn't make Keith feel the undercurrent of _I wish I wish I wish_.

They do a few shots with Keith drinking from the bottle as they sit together, then with Shiro stealing the bottle from him, and then Shiro drinking as he turns himself to keep away from Keith, while Keith laughs and reaches over him to grab it back.

Shiro smirks back at Keith, a competitive glint in his eye, and, ah—that's what they were going for. Looking for what would naturally bring out the playful side of Shiro and get him to tease Keith like this, without the nervous edge of actively trying to be something he's not.

Keith can see how this could look like flirting, but that’s all it is—just the appearance of it. They hang out and mess with each other like this all the time. It's not flirting, it's just how they are.

He can't let himself forget that the way he's feeling, the way Shiro’s looking at him—none of it is real.

“You know,” Acxa says after they've wrapped up and are packing up to leave, “he's exactly your type.”

“My type?” Keith says. “I don't have a type.” Spending his limited romantic energy mooning over Shiro leaves practically nothing for anyone else. 

“You do,” Acxa says. “It's him.”

She nods her head over to where Shiro’s helping Veronica load the van, and, well, Keith can't disagree with that. 

“Something wrong?” Shiro says in the car on the way back home. “You've been quiet.”

Keith, who's been slumping with his forehead plastered against the passenger side window as he contemplates his life, sits up and tries to make himself look functional. “No, I’m fine,” he says. “Did you have fun today?”

“I’ll always have fun with you,” Shiro says, so easily it makes Keith warm. “Though, do you always end up in those kinds of scenes when you work with other people?”

“What do you mean?”

“All—you know,” Shiro says vaguely. “Cute.”

Shiro doesn't mean it the way it sounds, Keith knows, so he tells his heart to start fluttering. “Not always,” Keith says. “But yeah, it happens a lot. I’m known for my demure look, apparently.”

“Demure?” Shiro repeats, with a note of incredulity. “Have they even met you?”

Keith snorts. “I mean, yeah, once they work with me. But when it comes to this kind of stuff, it’s not really about the reality of it. It’s about what you can make it look like. That’s something I’m good at, I guess.”

“You’re good at looking like something you’re not?” Shiro says, a strange edge to his voice.

“It’s not really as weird as it sounds,” Keith says. “It’s more like acting than anything else, except you don’t have to memorize any lines. It’s just playing a role.”

Shiro hums and taps his finger on the steering wheel. “Yeah, that makes sense,” he says after a moment. The atmosphere between them is strange in a way that Keith can’t really explain. “Well, you are definitely good at your job,” he says with a smile.

Keith smiles back hesitantly. “Thanks.”

One breath passes, then two, and then the atmosphere shifts again. “Well,” Shiro says, “I think we’ve discovered I’m not really good at showing any kind of personality other than my own, if we do this again.” 

“We can let Matt know so he can help you avoid that kind of thing,” Keith says.

“What about a shoot where you’re the sexy biker boy?” Shiro says. “Since that’s a lot closer to reality.”

Shiro definitely doesn’t mean _that_ the way it sounds. Keith forces a laugh. “Yeah, that’s definitely not happening. At least not if we’re shooting together.”

“Subversive,” Shiro says again.

“Maybe if you pull out the doe eyes on Allura, she can work some of her magic somewhere,” Keith says. “Seeing as she likes you so much. I think she likes you more than me.”

Shiro laughs. “That’s not true.”

“I’m one hundred percent sure it’s true,” Keith says. “You’re naturally likable.”

“And you’re not?”

“Shiro.” Keith elbows him. “How long have you known me?”

“Oh geez.” Shiro laughs again. “Are you actually going to make me count?”

“A long-ass time, that’s how long,” Keith says. “And when, in any of that, would you have called me likable?”

“Well, from the very beginning, I guess,” Shiro says. “Seeing as I liked you. That’s the definition of likable, right?”

Keith huffs a laugh and says what he’s always known. “You’re just special.”

Shiro smiles at him, like he’s sharing a secret. “No,” he says. “I think that’s you.”

* * *

Keith isn’t surprised that Shiro’s unexpected modeling career takes off by storm.

As he’s well, well aware, Shiro is really, ridiculously hot, and now everyone’s getting the chance to discover that. The Sincline Pure Love campaign has already faded from public memory, but now there’s a ton of buzz on social media over the newest Balmera Bubbles campaign. Usually, when campaigns are blowing up on social media, it’s because something controversial is happening.

This time, it’s because everyone, no matter their gender or sexual orientation, is high-key thirsting over Shiro.

It makes Keith want to steal every copy of the magazines in existence and burn them all so that no one else can fawn over Shiro’s _hunky jaw_ or _thrilling triceps_. 

At least Shiro doesn’t seem to be bothered by it—though honestly, Keith isn’t sure if Shiro’s even aware that any of it is happening. He only comes to shoots with Keith, and that’s pretty much the extent of his interactions with the industry. Shiro spends the rest of his time holed up in his flower shop, and things there have been business as usual, if not a bit busier due to the publicity from the Sincline shoot. 

Keith figures it’s because Shiro’s practically unrecognizable when he’s wearing his glasses and floral pink apron.

“Like Superman,” Keith muses one evening as he spins around on a stool in the flower shop. “One minute you’re an unassuming florist, then you take off the glasses and you’re a supermodel.”

“Is Superman a supermodel?” Shiro says from… somewhere.

Keith stops spinning until he can find Shiro, who’s tending to the plants by the window. “He could be. I was into Superman. He’s hot.”

Shiro chokes a little. “I definitely needed to know that.”

“You don’t think Superman’s hot?”

“Oh my god.” Shiro turns around and wipes his hands on his apron. “I feel like I’m in high school again, talking about superhero crushes.”

“We could talk about real crushes if you want,” Keith says, then clamps his mouth shut. He doesn’t know why he said that. Even he doesn’t want to talk about that.

The smile on Shiro’s face falters, and Keith feels like an asshole.

“Sorry,” Keith says. “I’m sorry, Shiro, I’m not trying to be nosy or anything.”

“No, it’s fine.” Shiro brushes past him, busying himself with something behind the counter, and Keith gets the sense that everything is not fine, but he’s not sure why.

They don’t really talk about their romantic lives. Keith doesn’t think Shiro’s dated anyone since Adam. They’ve been living together for years, and Keith doesn’t remember him going out with anyone, much less bringing anyone home.

Whatever Shiro’s reasons are for keeping his romantic life private, Keith will let him have them if it means that he’s not going to pry into Keith’s love life in return. Keith’s good at dodging, but he’s shit at lying.

“Hey,” Keith says.

Shiro glances at him and smiles, which helps to ease the sweating in his palms. “Hey.”

Keith relaxes. “Hey.”

Shiro looks at him for a moment, then tilts his head, smile wide and questioning. “Hey. You okay?”

“Yeah.” Keith kicks his feet against the bars of the stool and tries to think of something, anything to say to clear the awkward air between them. “Uh, I wanted to mention that Shay called me, from Balmera Bubbles. They really want us to consider doing a followup campaign, but I know you weren’t really feeling the first one. I think we have a lot of room for negotiation, if you’re interested.”

“What kind of followup?”

“Sexy mechanic type stuff, I think,” Keith says. “With you as the sexy mechanic. Obviously.”

“Obviously,” Shiro repeats. He leans his forearms on the counter. “Like you’re not the one who’s always fixing the van.”

“The people want what they want.” Keith says with a shrug. 

“And what the people want is…”

“You looking hot and muscly and like you know what to do with a pair of jumper cables,” Keith says, pointing at Shiro.

“And you looking hot and not-muscly and like you want to jump me?” Shiro says.

Keith coughs and, unfortunately, can’t stop himself from blushing. “Uh, yeah. That.”

“Well, when you put it that way,” Shiro says, “how could I say no?”

And Keith is—not sure what that means, exactly, but he’s sure it doesn’t bode well for him. After reflecting on the last shoot, he’s realized that when Shiro’s all dressed up like everything he’s not, Keith’s all the more reminded of everything Shiro actually is, and how much he loves it.

How much he loves Shiro.

And that’s the real problem with taking on more and more shoots. Keith’s just learning over and over how attractive Shiro is, and how sweet, and how kind. He’s too close to what he can’t have. It’s all too clear whenever he scrolls through Lance’s Instagram, then Veronica’s, flipping through their cache of behind-the-scenes shots. Keith’s face twists at his own expression in them, then at the comments below.

He is, he knows, stupidly in love with Shiro, and the longer this goes on, the more likely it is that people will find out.

The more likely it is that Shiro will find out.

And Keith can’t let that happen.

* * *

“He's not doing it,” Keith says over the phone. He shifts it to hold with his other shoulder so that he can grab eggs from the fridge. “Pidge should've already told you.”

“ _He would be divine_ ,” Allura says. “ _It wouldn't even be full nudity_ —“

“Any nudity is too much nudity.” And even if Shiro was comfortable with it, Keith’s not sure he would make it. He’s on thin ice as it is.

“Why are you talking about nudity?” Shiro says as he checks the temperature of the oil on the stove.

“I'm just reminding Allura that you specifically said you didn't want to take your clothes off,” Keith says, stressing the last part of that for Allura’s benefit.

“ _Have you reminded him that you will also be partially nude?_ ”

“Oh my god,” Keith says, flushing. “He’s not doing it, all right? It doesn’t matter if I’m ass-naked. Why can’t you just book Hunk again? We worked well together last time.”

“ _I’m trying to help you out here, Keith_ ,” Allura says.

“Help me out with what?”

“ _Put me on speaker._ ”

“Why would I do that?”

“I don’t mind doing it.” Shiro’s turned off the stove and is leaning against the counter, arms crossed as he looks at Keith. “You’re talking about another shoot, right?”

Keith gapes at him. “But—naked.”

“Not all the way, right?” Shiro says. “And I’ll feel less self-conscious about it if you’re doing it with me.”

What is going on? That’d been the first thing Shiro had said after his oily photoshoot for his portfolio images—no more nudity of any kind. And now he’s going back on it?

“ _Keith, let me speak to him_ ,” Allura says with far too much glee.

Keith wordlessly passes the phone over and watches in a daze as Shiro hums attentively at whatever Allura is saying and asks her to send information over to Matt. Shiro is actually agreeing to this. He’s agreeing to pose with Keith half-naked for softcore porn disguising itself as an underwear ad.

Keith is one hundred percent not going to survive the experience.

“I don’t get it,” he says once Shiro’s hung up. “You said you didn’t want to do the porny stuff.”

“I’m sure it’s not porny,” Shiro says. 

Keith pulls out his phone, opens it to the album of the last shoot he did for this company, and pushes it in front of Shiro’s face. Shiro makes a complicated expression as he swipes through the pictures. “It’s… a little erotic.”

Keith pulls the phone back so he can swipe to the one where it looks like he’s mid-orgasm and shoves it back in Shiro’s face. Shiro turns red and stammers a few times. “That’s, uh, wow.”

“Yeah,” Keith says, taking the phone back. “Are you absolutely sure you want to do this? Don’t let Allura convince you to do stuff for her just because you’re friends now.”

“I’m sure,” Shiro says. Keith looks at him. There was something determined in that, the same kind of determination as when Shiro’d decided to take the plunge and quit his job to open Black Lion Florals.

Not something that Keith thinks taking on this photoshoot warrants.

Shiro looks at him steadily for a moment, then softens. “Don’t worry, Keith. I wouldn’t do this if I wasn’t sure.”

Keith relents. “Fine. I’m trusting you.”

“And I trust you.” Shiro squeezes his shoulder. “C’mon, let’s finish dinner. I’m starving.”

* * *

The Kolivan Klein shoot is taking place at Allura’s studio.

She’s pulled a bed from somewhere and laid it out in the middle of the floor as the set. Lighting is already mostly set up, low and warm and intimate.

Keith gives Allura the stink eye out of principle when they arrive, but he shifts his expression into something neutral once Shiro steps up next to him.

Allura, damn her, is as unaffected by him as always and smiles sunnily at the two of them. “I’m so glad you made it safely! Please, wardrobe is ready for you in the dressing rooms.”

“What wardrobe,” Keith mutters. 

Shiro just thanks her and they make their way to their separate dressing rooms. Keith strips down, pulls on a pair of tight black Kolivan Klein boxer briefs, and sadly adjusts his half-chub so that it hopefully won’t be too obvious if (when) it eventually grows.

He wonders if Shiro will get boxer briefs, too. Maybe just briefs. Keith has to adjust himself again. Maybe he should stop thinking about this.

He wraps himself up in a robe and lets hair and makeup go to town on him. There’s not much to do for this shoot—Kolivan Klein campaigns always aim for a more subdued, though provocative style. They’re going for a matte look, so they brush and powder him all over, with key application of highlights and shadows for extra drama.

He steps out of the fitting room looking and feeling mostly like himself.

He drinks some water out in the main room as he waits for Shiro to emerge. Lance is idling around outside, and he jabs Keith with a bony elbow when he sees him.

“You guys together yet?” Lance says.

“Who says we’re getting together?”

“Dude,” Lance says. “I have so much photographic evidence I could probably go write a whole love story about you and sell it to the press right now.”

“It’s not evidence if it’s from a shoot,” Keith says. “It’s acting.”

“Acting, my bony ass.”

“No one wants to hear about your ass.”

“Bet you’d want to hear about Shiro’s ass, though.”

“I’m sure Shiro wouldn’t want you talking about it.”

“Why talk about it when you could just look at it?” Lance points over Keith’s shoulder.

Keith follows his finger without really thinking about it, and—yep. That’s Shiro’s ass, clad in tight heather gray boxer briefs. He’s turned, talking to Allura, leaving the curve of his butt in plain view. It spends most of its life hidden under loose, straight pants, so Keith never gets to appreciate it as much as he does in this moment.

He has never felt the urge to touch something more strongly.

“You’re so lucky that I feel too sorry for you to take a picture right now,” Lance says.

“Shut up,” Keith says, tearing his eyes away to glare.

“Oh no,” Lance says. “Don’t let me interrupt your moment.”

“I was not having a moment.”

“Were you not? Because that really looked like—“

“Lance,” Keith says. “Shut up.”

“Sorry, sorry,” Lance says. “You’re right. That wasn’t a moment at all. It was a straight-up gay crisis.”

“You’re having a gay crisis?” Shiro’s voice comes from over Keith’s shoulder, sounding absolutely genuine. Keith hates Lance.

“I am not having a gay crisis,” Keith says. “I am done having gay crises.”

“Wow,” Shiro says. “Even I’m not done with the gay crisis stage. You’ll have to teach me your ways.”

Keith frowns at the vague, vague mention of Shiro’s romantic life, and the idea that there might be someone in it. The feeling unsettles him. “Over who?”

Shiro just shrugs. “Sometimes you just see a man so beautiful you need to have a crisis.”

Lance stares at Keith with wide, intense eyes.

Keith flips him off.

“Let’s get started, everyone!” Allura calls out. “Shiro, why don’t we have you sitting on the bed to start. You can go ahead and lean back against the headboard, get comfortable. Keith, can you just lean next to him? Face this way.”

They get into the position, Shiro resting against the headboard and Keith leaning beside him. It isn’t so different from their positions in other shoots, but something about the sheets under his legs and the heat radiating directly from Shiro’s skin to his makes Keith shiver and his dick twitch. Keith freezes, but if Shiro felt it, he doesn’t do anything to indicate it.

“You can touch him, Keith,” Allura says.

“Sorry,” Keith murmurs as he reaches out. “My hands are cold.” And sweaty.

“When are they not?” Shiro murmurs back, and Keith smiles at him as he rests his hand on Shiro’s shoulder.

They’re so close like this, and Keith’s heart is beating so fast it’s a wonder his hand isn’t trembling with it. He feels his breathing pick up, though, and he tries to settle it before anyone else notices, while at the same time keeping an ear out for more instructions.

It’s so hard to focus when all he can think about right now is kissing Shiro.

He fumbles through a few more hand placements and angles, and then Allura’s telling him to get in Shiro’s lap. He clambers over on his knees and grips the headboard behind Shiro to keep himself balanced. Shiro’s hands catch onto his waist to help.

“Hold there for a moment,” Allura says. “Lance, could you adjust the lighting here? I think more dramatic shadows, really highlight their musculature.”

Keith glances down. Shiro’s face is tinged pink, and his pupils are blown when he looks at Keith.

Keith grips the headboard tighter. It’s just an unconscious reaction to the fact that they’re both naked. Shiro doesn’t really mean anything by it.

But Keith wants. God, does Keith want.

“Shiro,” Allura says, breaking his haze, “can you hold onto Keith’s waistband, please?”

She makes it sound like such a polite, normal request. Keith has to respect how she can always do that.

He shivers as Shiro’s fingertips brush his skin on the way to pinching and tugging at his waistband. Shiro puts the lightest bit of pressure on it, just enough for it to start to pull down, but the few centimeters of skin that’s exposed is enough to make Keith’s pulse flutter and his dick throb again.

Shiro had to have noticed that one.

Shiro inhales to speak, and Keith tenses, but all he says is, “Is this okay?”

Keith smiles tightly and croaks out a, “Yeah.”

They stay there, Shiro's fingers in his underwear and alarmingly close to his dick, for what feels like an eternity.

Then Allura says, “All right, I think we have enough here. Why don’t you both lay down now? Shiro, stay on your back. Keith, go on your side. Try to line up the waistbands.”

Keith shuffles off Shiro’s lap, freeing Shiro’s fingers from his waistband, which snaps back against his hips. They rearrange themselves on the bed, and he curls himself against Shiro’s side. Waist-to-waist means that his face ends up somewhere around Shiro’s pecs, and he tries not to stare at the nipple, hardened in the cold air.

“Keith, look over Shiro’s chest,” Allura instructs, putting an end to Keith’s attempt to stay sane. “Shiro, tilt your head down and look at Keith.”

There’s a silence filled with mainly the clacking of shoes and camera shutters, and Keith just… breathes. Breathes and sweats and tries not to die from a heart attack while simultaneously keeping his face serene. It’s just a nipple. No big deal. Nothing he hasn’t seen before. He has one. He has two, actually. Right on his chest, just like how Shiro’s is on his chest.

And now he’s acknowledging that this is Shiro’s chest again. It’s a good thing Shiro can’t see his expression. Even Keith doesn’t want to know what he looks like right now.

Shiro puts his hand in Keith’s hair at Allura’s next instruction, and he scratches soothingly at Keith’s scalp. It’s nice. Intimate. Keith feels his eyelids fluttering.

“Keith, can you put your hand on his waist?” Allura says. “Anywhere that feels comfortable. Don’t cover the logo, though.”

Keith puts his hand delicately on the waistband right below Shiro’s navel. Then, after realizing how uncomfortably close to Shiro’s giant bulge it is, moves it over to be closer to his hip.

And now he’s acknowledging the existence of Shiro’s giant bulge, which he had been doing a fine job of more or less ignoring before, so that’s great.

“Now this time look down toward his legs, Keith,” Allura says, because of course he can’t have a single moment of peace.

Keith looks down and avoids staring at Shiro’s bulge. He focuses on his knees instead. Knees are weird and knobby and unattractive. Shiro’s knees just have the unfortunate side effect of being near his very thick thighs, which Keith would very much like to grind against.

Keith squeezes his eyes shut as Lance instructs another lighting adjustment.

They can’t call for a break soon enough.

* * *

Keith plans to spend the entirety of his break plastered face-down on the fainting couch in his dressing room, praying for either the shoot to be over or death to take him. The knock on his door interrupts those plans, but seeing as it’s only been a few minutes, there’s a good chance that it’s one of the Altea crew come to let him know they’ve decided to wrap.

Instead, it’s Shiro, wearing one of Altea’s large, fluffy robes and an embarrassed smile. “Hey, can I come in?”

“Ah, yeah, of course.” Keith pulls the door open more fully so that Shiro can step through and is suddenly very aware that he’s still only in the boxer briefs.

Shiro doesn’t seem to notice, though, murmuring, “Thanks,” as he steps in and then just standing there, looking around like he’s taking in the scenery. Keith knows from experience that all of the dressing rooms here are the same, so Keith can only assume that Shiro’s interest in the decor is just him trying to distract himself because he’s nervous.

Keith’s frown deepens. “Hey, are you okay?” It isn’t the shoot that’s stressing Shiro out, is it? “If you’re not feeling well, we could call it a day. Allura would understand, and I’m pretty sure they got some shots they can work with.”

“No, no, that’s not it.” Shiro looks at Keith, then away again. “Or… I guess it’s kind of it.” He scratches his head. “I—I feel like we should talk before we go out there and do anything again.”

Keith swallows over the lump in his throat. His hands are cold again, and clammy. He knows Shiro noticed his… interest. Knows there’s no way Shiro could’ve missed it. “What is it?” he says, feeling like he’s signing his own death sentence.

Shiro steps closer, and takes both of Keith’s hands in his. Keith resists the urge to clamp his fists shut so that Shiro can’t feel his clammy palms. “Don’t freak out,” Shiro says. “Please.”

“You’re the one freaking me out,” Keith says over the pounding of his heart. “Just say it, Shiro.”

“I…” Shiro trails off, fidgets.

Keith wants to wait, wants to be patient, but stress and nerves and _Shiro_ are making it hard to think straight. He just wants this conversation to be over. “Shiro, what?”

Shiro readjusts his grip to Keith’s elbows and steps closer again, so that their bodies are almost flush. Keith twitches a little and sweats but lets it happen. “Is this okay?” Shiro says.

“I—” Keith just wants to know what Shiro wants from him. “Shiro, what are you doing?”

“I don’t know,” Shiro says. “That’s the thing. I never know what I’m doing around you. I think one day I’ll figure it out, but I never do. And just… today…”

“What about today?”

Shiro steps just close enough that Keith can’t really see his face anymore, and he speaks into the top of Keith’s head. “You drive me crazy.” He inhales and exhales, so deep that Keith feels it. “You drive me so crazy, Keith. And just—I just need to know if you feel the same way, because—“

Keith leans back, throws his arms over the back of Shiro’s neck, and kisses him hard. Shiro’s arms slacken for a moment, then wrap around him twice as hard as he kisses back. Fuck, Keith can’t think straight, can’t think at all beyond the fact that he’s wanted this, he’s wanted this so badly, and now that he has it, he never wants to let go.

Keith’s hands dive into the opening of Shiro’s robe, winding around his back under the fabric in a stupid, useless attempt to get closer. Shiro pushes at him, and they stumble back haphazardly until Keith feels the back of his knees hit a surface and they collapse onto the fainting couch in a tangle of limbs and heaving breaths.

Shiro breaks away, only to nose at Keith’s throat.

Keith pushes at his shoulders. “No marks—no—Shiro, we can’t ruin the makeup.”

“Okay,” Shiro says, breathless. “Okay.” He comes back up, kisses Keith on the mouth again, and Keith throws his legs around the broad expanse of Shiro’s back and pulls him down so that he can grind against his bulk.

“Don’t wanna crush you,” Shiro mumbles, breaking away.

“Don’t give a fuck,” Keith says, pushing their bodies together harder. “Do you know how long I’ve—“

“How long?”

“Too fucking long,” Keith says. He pushes Shiro back again so that he can sit upright and scramble at Shiro’s boxer briefs. The Kolivan Klein logo is haunting him. Kolivan would kill him if he knew what was going on.

Fuck, Allura’s going to kill them.

“We can’t fuck on Allura’s couch,” Keith says.

Shiro looks genuinely startled. “Who said anything about fucking?”

Keith hesitates. He knows he’s not the most experienced when it comes to this relationship-and-sex stuff, but he’s not—he can’t be wrong about where they were going, can he? They were clearly on a collision course to dick-touching.

“Did you… not want to?” he asks, and it feels like the most awkward question he’s ever asked in his life.

“I want to,” Shiro assures him, which is gratifying, “but isn’t it… moving a bit fast?”

“What part of _too fucking long_ didn’t you get?” Keith says, and decides that Shiro’s concerns have been addressed well enough. He goes back to the boxer briefs, pulling the waistband over Shiro’s hips and letting his dick bounce free.

God, it’s just as big as he’d thought. Bigger, maybe.

Shiro’s breath hitches. “What are you doing?”

“Can I blow you?” Keith says. “I need to blow you.”

“Oh my god.”

“Is that a yes?”

Shiro looks like he desperately wants to say yes, which does all sorts of wonderful things to Keith’s ego and his heart. Then Shiro glances over at the door. “I—yes, but, how long do you think—“

Keith is satisfied with just the _yes_ part of that, and he dives down immediately to take Shiro into his mouth. He’s had years of horny fantasies to consider exactly how to get this right, and fantasy is no replacement for experience, but it does bring with it plenty of motivation to get Shiro off.

“ _Fuck_ ,” Shiro says after barely any effort at all. One hand slams onto the back of the couch, clutching it so hard that the wood creaks, and the other, warm flesh, fists itself in Keith’s hair. It doesn’t do anything but hold as he moves, but the pressure against his scalp is delicious.

It doesn’t take long for Shiro to come—Keith works him up and over with all the enthusiasm of someone who finally gets to show the love of their life how well they can satisfy them, and he’s swallowing Shiro’s come and licking his lips in a matter of minutes.

“Fast enough for you?” Keith says.

Shiro sags against the couch and throws his arm over his eyes. “I think I should be embarrassed, maybe,” he says, “but I’m too tired. Fuck.”

“Bold statement,” Keith says, “for someone who did none of the work.”

“Cheeky,” Shiro says, but there’s a fond smile on his face as he looks at Keith from under his arm. He holds it out for Keith to come snuggle. “C’mere.”

Keith does, curling up to his side. It doesn’t escape him that they’re in the same position as they were in the shoot from earlier, and he gets that same heady feeling of intimacy, bolstered this time by the knowledge that it’s real, it’s real, it’s real.

Shiro’s hand grips his cock, warm and huge and firm, and he strokes Keith until his toes curl and he’s panting his release against Shiro’s throat.

“I love you,” Shiro says quietly. “I feel like I can say that, since we’re skipping all the steps anyways.”

Keith guesses he can’t really argue against Shiro there. And it’s—he’s loved Shiro since before any of this. He loves him just as much now. “I love you, too.”

A solid series of knocks on the door makes them both jump.

“Hey Keith, Allura wants a few more, so finish dolling up and get out here already!” Lance yells through the door. “And go get Shiro, would you? I think he’s taking a nap or something.”

“Yeah, give me a minute!” Keith yells back, as Shiro shakes with laughter next to him. Keith realizes suddenly the state they’re in, the mess that he’s made by coming over everything, and how absolutely dead they are once Allura finds out. ”Oh, fuck. We ruined the underwear.”

Shiro has the decency to look chagrined. “Oops. Sorry, I wasn’t thinking. I had some extras back in my dressing room, though. Don’t you?”

Keith blinks at him, then remembers—the complimentary pair Kolivan always provides the models. All the tension leaves him at once, and he kisses Shiro soundly for still having a brain post-sex. “I love you.”

Shiro smiles, soft and fond and _everything_ , and kisses him back. “I love you, too.”

* * *

**One Year Later**

“Weddings are the worst,” Keith says through his teeth. On the outside, at least, he hopes he's still smiling as he waves at everyone walking by on their way to the reception. Behind him, Allura and Lance are setting up their equipment.

Shiro laughs and leans closer. His hand on Keith's waist tightens a little, then loosens. “Do you really have to say that here?”

“If not here, where else?”

“Just trying to decide if I should be offended or not.”

“I said weddings are the worst,” Keith says. “Not you. Except for when you almost made me cry back there.”

“Very heartwarming, husband.”

The way Shiro says that endearment—that’s heartwarming. Keith flushes despite himself.

“You like that?” Shiro says, snuggling closer. “Husband?”

Keith squirms. “Married for five minutes and suddenly you think you can mess with me.”

“Love you,” Shiro says, and smiles expectantly.

Keith sighs. He can’t even properly pretend to be annoyed right now. “Love you, too.”

“All right, lovebirds!” Lance calls out. “It’s picture time!”

“Did we really have to have the wedding here?” Keith says as they trudge over familiar lawns to a familiar archway of hanging vines. He’s even carrying a familiar bouquet.

“It’s romantic, isn’t it?” Shiro says.

“I guess that’s one word for it.” It’s the same place they had first modeled together, for that ridiculous wedding ad that started it all. If it weren’t for that shoot, the rest of the pieces might never have fallen into place.

“Are we really about to take our wedding photos in the same place, though?”

“Well,” Shiro says. “Not just the same place.” He reaches into the bag that he’s carrying and pulls out a very, very familiar veil.

“Oh my god,” Keith says faintly. He looks over at Lance and Allura, who both seem amused and not at all surprised. “Oh my god.”

“I remember you told me, after, that every time you saw them you wished they were real,” Shiro says. “So I was thinking… how about we make them real? What do you say, husband?”

“You’re the most ridiculous man I’ve ever met,” Keith says. “Husband.”

Shiro grins. Leans down and kisses him, firmly. “I’m your ridiculous man.”

“You are,” Keith agrees. “And I’m yours.”

“I love you,” Shiro says, earnest and real. So real.

Keith’s never going to get tired of hearing it. He’s never going to get tired of saying it.

Keith winds his arms around him and holds Shiro tight. “I love you.”

Now, and for the rest of their lives.

**Author's Note:**

> see all the art (plus some bonus peeks at the wedding and reception) on [wofuru's post](https://twitter.com/WofuruRem/status/1206665424953319424)!
> 
> \----
> 
> an extra thank you to cai/blacktreecle for kolivan klein, the most blessed of brand names.
> 
> thank you so much for reading! ♥  
> i love, appreciate, and reply to all comments, even if it takes me a little while to get to them :)
> 
> catch me on [twitter](https://twitter.com/ailurea)!


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